Family Business
by Higuchimon
Summary: [one-shot, Catch The Barian Emperors, Don Thousand & Diversity Challenge] Running a mob is not an easy task. This task is made even harder when one's son is Vector.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
><strong>Title:<strong> Family Business  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Don Thousand, Vector  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 2,497||**Status:** One-shot  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Family||**Rated:** PG  
><strong>Challenge:<strong> Catch The Barian Emperors: Don Thousand; Diversity Challenge, section D, #83, write an AU  
><strong>Summary:<strong> [one-shot, Catch The Barian Emperors, Don Thousand & Diversity Challenge] Running a mob is not an easy task. This task is made even harder when one's son is Vector.

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><p>There were few people who could be called into Don Thousand's office and not feel at least a little disturbed by this. Like any good mob boss, he had a very factual reputation attached to him, and part of that reputation was that very few of those who'd offended him in any fashion survived to tell the tale. Frequently those who were called into his office were among those. Some few had stepped back out alive. None of those ever said what happened while they were in there. Not that many had the nerve to ask.<p>

Don Thousand leaned back in his plush office chair, attention on the security monitors set up throughout his mansion. Only he and the chief of security had complete access to what the monitors revealed, though small cameras were on display in significant corners. Not significant in the sense of where important locations were, but significant to give any intruder who might've made it inside pause to be aware that there was no way to get through here unseen.

Not all intruders cared about that, however, and that was usually where security reminded them that there were other things to fret about, such as the damage that bullets could do to the human body.

The one that he watched right now seemed more interested in what other things could be done with the human body, however, and Don Thousand shook his head. In all truth, he wasn't surprised at this. It was hardly the first time Vector had done something like this, and it likely enough would not be the last.

With the tip of one finger he brushed across the intercom button and waited for the faint crackle of activation. Then, calmly, he spoke.

"Vector, I want to see you in my office as soon as you're finished." He paused, just long enough to see them break apart, one set of blue eyes wide and shocked and angry, while Vector hissed between his teeth, head snapping to the nearest visible monitor screen.

"I'm _busy_!"

"Which is why I said when you're finished," Don Thousand pointed out. "Do take the trouble to wash up first." Just because he'd seen his son in the middle of his pleasures didn't mean he wanted a first-hand view of what had happened.

Vector shushed his blond partner before the other could say anything, returning to the business at hand without another word. Don Thousand wasn't surprised at that either; Vector never had been able to deny himself so much as a moment of pleasure. Sometimes he would take his time getting to it, but once he had it, he savored it to the fullest.

_He gets that from me,_ the crime lord thought with satisfaction. Vector would be a worthy heir one day, once his training was completely finished.

He didn't pay that much more attention to what was going on, preferring to prepare for the upcoming meeting instead. He signed a few documents, made certain that the guards outside of the door knew to let his son in, and that those assigned to Vector's rooms knew to let his plaything out if he wanted to go.

The door swung open a short time later, and Vector strolled inside, the scent of sex still reeking off of him despite the shower evident from the damp tips of his hair. He tossed himself down into the chair, stretching his legs over the side of the arms, and tilted his head back.

"Is there some reason you interrupted me? I _just_ managed to get Mizael to come inside without being terrified someone was going to shoot him. Do you know how far back this is setting me?"

"Judging by your usual rate of success, probably at least two movies, three dinners at the Silver Salon, and no less than four dates without any obvious bodyguards." Don Thousand knew his son's habits, and success record, better than he suspected Vector knew.

"Right. So, can we get this over with so I can get onto it?" Vector pouted, something Don Thousand wanted to train out of him and at times despaired of doing. He also wanted to train his son out of being as restless as he was, the boy already shifting from lounging on one side of the chair to the other.

"Vector, as much as I know you enjoy your games, there is a great deal you need to learn if you're going to inherit my position one day," Don Thousand said, leaning forward a fraction. He'd tried to explain this many times, but Vector had listening issues.

To be precise, he listened only when it benefited him, and otherwise, anything else went in one ear and out the other. Sometimes the crime lord wondered if it even bothered going in one ear at all and didn't just bend around him altogether.

"I _told_ you!" Vector slipped around so he sat more traditionally in the chair and shot his father a very annoyed look at the same time. "I _just_ got him to come inside! I'm not going to give him up _now_! Besides, have you _seen_ him?" Vector didn't lick his lips, but avid greed gleamed in his eyes regardless. "Do you know anything about him at all?"

Don Thousand refused to show so much as a sign of annoyance. His signs of annoyance ranged from finding a way to bribe or blackmail his targets so they did what he wanted, or a quick bullet to the head, and arranging for whoever was next in line for whatever the situation was to be more amenable to his line of thinking. While that last option wouldn't work very well for his son, the first one did offer some interesting thoughts.

"I didn't ask for you to give him up. And I know as much about him as you do, if not more." He hadn't even expected Vector to end his fun this soon. This relationship, if one could call it that, had barely lasted two months, and Vector usually played with his toys for a year or two before discarding them for something or someone shinier.

Though this Mizael was one of the prettiest that Vector had marked for his own, so he might last a bit longer than that. Such a thing wasn't impossible. And more than being pretty, he had connections, ones that Don Thousand found quite interesting for many reasons.

But he kept his attention on what he wanted for the moment, not what might or might not happen. "What I want is for you to be more discreet about your conquests. Not only were you and he enjoying one another's company in _my_ hallway, but at your school as well. Specifically, the hallway outside of your history class, your math class, _and_ in the lunchroom."

"You forgot in the limo on the way to school and on the way home," Vector pointed out, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He wriggled around now so he sat cross-legged in the chair. Don Thousand had never noticed him to sit in the same position for more than five minutes at the most.

"No, I didn't. Those were in private areas not accessible to most people." Don Thousand leaned forward a fraction more, catching Vector's attention. "There have been rumors from some of my business rivals involving you. You need to be aware of what is going on at all times."

Vector audibly sighed, wriggling his shoulders. "Dad, there have been rumors from them about me since the day I was born. Remember the nurse who tried to poison me when I was three?"

As if he could forget. "And did you not learn to be more careful from that?" He could easily have dredged up a dozen more incidents, some squashed outright by his security, one or two that he'd taken care of personally, and one from just the year before where Vector had killed both of his kidnappers and gone to a movie before thinking to call his father and let him know that he was alive.

"I learned to always be armed and to have someone I don't like test my food," Vector replied, stifling a yawn that seemed more practiced than stemming from boredom or tiredness. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? I've got plans."

And those plans likely didn't include homework. Vector could be a reasonable student, but he much preferred tending to his own amusements before he bothered with lessons. Don Thousand tolerated it only so long as he could pass his tests when necessary. Vector knew quite well if he tried to slack off beyond the accepted limits, there would be no pretty toys for him to play with, no matter how much he paid for them.

"I'm going to be going on a trip next week." There were certain parts of his far-flung empire that needed the boss's hand to be displayed on occasion, and he wanted to get it done before he turned his attention to matters a little closer to him. Trying to bring Vector up a little short was only one of the issues he had with his son. He wanted to keep the boy alive, of course, but there was so much else that Vector needed to learn, far beyond how to bribe or seduce someone into his bed or what his favorite weapon to kill someone with was.

"Another one?" Vector's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, a hint more interest in his gaze now. "Do you want me along on this one?"

Don Thousand could almost see the request for that Mizael to come along. Vector had tried that before with one of his previous conquests. It hadn't gone well at all, and Don Thousand refused to let it happen again. He needed to work on his trips. They weren't simple vacations.

"No. I trust you to manage yourself without me." The mob boss toyed a bit with the tips of his long hair, watching his son as Vector relaxed a fraction. "I would, however, like you to look over some reports I will send you and give me your opinion on them."

What he really wanted was to give Vector a taste of what it was like to run even a small part of his business and see how he did with it.

Vector scrunched his nose up at that. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." Don Thousand wasn't going to back down on this one. He knew perfectly well how Vector thought; his answer to most issues involved disposing of whatever caused the problem by the most fatal means necessary, first, last, and always. That didn't work every time, as much as Don Thousand himself might have found the notion attractive. Still, his tastes ran to finding people who could accomplish what he needed or wanted them to do, and find a way to persuade them to do it. It was more than a little difficult to bring back the dead, if he found out someone he'd had killed had skills he could use.

Oh, but the things he could do if he _could_ bring back the dead…

He refocused his attention on his son, who didn't look any more thrilled about this than he had seconds earlier.

_Perhaps he's not as good for this as I thought he was._ It was till early to tell; perhaps Vector would mature some more if he were put into a position to exercise actual authority. He knew Vector wanted the position; he'd been told all of his life that he would have it one day. But the more time passed, the more Don Thousand wondered if Vector were truly suited for it.

It wouldn't be such a bad idea to keep an eye out for someone who showed more aptitude and interest already. He wouldn't make his mind up on the matter just yet, but he wanted to keep all of his options open. He wanted his son to take up the reins one day. But he also wanted his organization to be in the best hands possible. If the two co-existed, then all the better. If not…

He'd decide on what to do if that actually happened.

"I'll send you what I want you to deal with tomorrow. You can have tonight to play all you want."

Vector's eyes lit up at that, and Don Thousand raised one cautionary finger. "You can play all that you want _after_ you get your homework done. _All_ of it."

The boy slumped back in his chair, still pouting just as hard as before. Don Thousand didn't believe the expression for a moment. He knew his son too well for that.

"I think that's everything." He glanced briefly toward the monitors showing Vector's room and kept himself from rolling his eyes. "I believe you have someone waiting for you." Even as Vector leaped up, Don Thousand bent a stern look on him. "Homework. First."

Vector only grinned and vanished out of the door as quickly as he could. Don Thousand held back a sigh. If Vector ended up doing _anything_ at all tonight, it would be a miracle, and he didn't believe in miracles.

Though perhaps just once, one would happen while he was away and Vector would not only have good ideas for the projects assigned, but have done his homework and not burned down more than three buildings…

No, he didn't believe in miracles.

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><p>Three weeks later, Don Thousand reviewed another set of reports, this time detailing exactly what Vector had done during his absence. He <em>had<em> gotten his homework done, likely enough just so no one would bother him about it anymore, and spent the rest of his time dividing himself between his various amusements.

_Five warehouses, at least three of which belonged to my competition, burned down._ At least that had been productive. Those warehouses contained items he would've preferred his rivals didn't own. He would have to find out if Vector knew that or if he'd just chosen his targets randomly.

Several other misdemeanors and random act of violence sprinkled their way through the report, but only one caught his eye, as it involved something close and personal to him.

_They had to order a new bed for my rooms? The old one **broke in half**?_

As always, the monitors showed Vector's rooms, where he happened to be at the moment. Don Thousand opened his mouth to ask, until he saw what Vector and Mizael were doing.

Oh. That explained it.

He turned off the monitors and decided tonight, he was dining out.

**The End**


End file.
